Dropping Down
by morrigan-hell-yeah
Summary: (Nevermoor fanfiction. Takes place around a month after A Lot Of Things Are Strange) Morrigan is kidnapped. That's it. That's the plot. TW for kidnapping, rape/noncon, suicidal ideations and vomit (should that be TW?) so far. To come: violence and possible blood and gore. Cheerful story, right?
1. A Fall

Morrigan was out in the city with Hawthorne, Cadence, and Jack late one night, sitting at a table in silence. Well, she was silent. The others were all laughing about something or other, but Morrigan had tuned them out ten minutes ago. She had no need for friends. They were still a fairly new idea to her, even after five years. She didn't truly trust any of them; she had just previously convinced herself that she did. She didn't even trust Jack. Even though she had kissed him about four seperate times. Even though she had nearly made love to him that one- No. She wouldn't think about that. Ever.

A bout of hysterical laughter from Hawthorne literally dragged her out of the deep, dark pit that contained her midnight thoughts as he grabbed her shoulder, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Ohmygosh, Morrigan. Tell- haha- tell us about the time with the... Dearborn..." He eventually degraded into peals of hilarity, and Morrigan rolled her eyes, smiling half-heartedly. "Not right now, Hawthorne," she said, trying to bring herself back to whatever she had been thinking about before. What was it again? Something about trust? Love? Friends?

If Morrigan's head didn't hurt, then she didn't know what did.

"Oh, come on, Morrigan!" Cadence protested, grinning. "I'm not Mundane. I don't know what goes on over there!"

"I'm not Mundane either, Cade," said Morrigan, using the pet name she had invented for her friend a year ago. She really didn't want to get into anything: not tonight. Not while her head felt like it was on fire. Just not tonight.

"You have a lot of classes in Mundane, though," Jack pointed out. He smirked at her, pleased with himself for becoming part of the peer pressure. Hawthorne thumped his hand on the table, making them all jump and Morrigan wince as her headache got even worse. He had seemingly recovered from his giggles, and said loudly, "Just tell us, Morrigan. Please?" He made puppy eyes at her, and Morrigan facepalmed. "You tell them then."

"I don't tell it as good as you do!"

"It's _well_. Not _good_," Jack informed Hawthorne, always the grammar authority in these situations (when Morrigan wasn't).

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna tell it! Cade, can't you make them stop?"

Cadence huffed. "You can't just use me for my powers. I'm not a friend with benefits, inverted commas."

Jack snorted at that. He shot a sideways glance at Morrigan, who flushed furiously and looked determinedly down at her lap.

Hawthorne groaned, flopping against Morrigan dramatically. It had definitely been a mistake to sit next to him. "Pleeeeease! I might _die_, Morrigan! Mum would be mad!"

"I'll take my chances."

Jack sighed. "Cut it out, will you?" Cadence just looked bored, tired of the repetitive dialogue. "If you just tell us, Morrigan, he'll stop."

"I don't _want _to tell you," Morrigan declared defiantly, sticking out her bottom lip like Hawthorne's little sister Davina did when she was refused the privilege of orange juice.

"Just tell us, Morrigan!" Hawthorne practically shouted, attracting a few odd looks from passers-by.

That was when Morrigan lost it, shoving Hawthorne off her shoulder aggressively. She felt her blood boil inside of her, and her fingertips tingled with Wunder. She scrambled up from the bench and dusted herself off immediately. "Shut _up_!" she yelled at them, ignoring the stares of strangers. "If I don't want to tell you anything, I bloody well won't!"

Jack stood up, holding a hand out to comfort her, but Morrigan slapped it away as soon as it came close to her. "Morrigan-"

"I don't care! You don't care! Nobody gives a flying fuck what I want!" Morrigan breathed heavily, realising the enormity of what she had just said, and then raced off in an entirely random direction.

Jack, Cadence, and Hawthorne stared after her, too shocked to say or do anything for a good ten seconds. Then Cadence broke the silence.

"Wow, didn't know she swore."

* * *

At the time Morrigan had stormed off, away from her friends and all the chaos that came with them, she hadn't been thinking about where she would go. Her amygdala had triggered her fight or flight instinct, and her frontal cortex had failed to calm her down. Her mind had been riddled with the instinct to get away from the loud noises, and just run. And so she had. Now she had absolutely no idea where she was, apart from a dark alleyway. Morrigan heard the yowl of a cat nearby, and shuddered at the screeching sound. She grew woozier and more light-headed by the second, and she clutched her head, shaking herself in an attempt to wake herself up and dim her headache.

"Oi, sweetheart!" a voice came from next to her. Morrigan whipped around, and flinched as a middle-aged man smoking a cigar and leaning against the side of the alley winked seductively at her. She stopped for reasons unknown even to her, and replied, "Excuse me, sir?"

The man leered at her creepily. It sent shivers down her spine, and her head throbbed to the point at which it was absolutely excruciating, and she hissed through clenched teeth, "Shit."

"You cut a fine figure, girlie," the man said, and he grinned. His teeth were stained brown and yellow, and his hair was awfully matted. Morrigan began to panic. Who was this guy? What did he want with her? How would she get back to her friends? She smiled nervously, and stammered, "Um. Uh, thanks?"

Morrigan felt very uncomfortable in this situation. Her head continued to stab itself repeatedly, and the man took a step towards her, discarding the cigar like an autumn leaf. He came closer. Closer, closer... and then he was right next to her. He placed a large, rough hand on her breast, and Morrigan froze as he whispered in a condescending manner, "Don't accept that compliment, sweetheart. Accept this one."

The man hit her over the head with something, and Morrigan fell to the ground with a pained cry.

She knew no more.

* * *

When Morrigan awoke, she lay bound and gagged by ropes on a bed in a room that strongly reminded her of a prison cell. This was what she imagined in all her books in which there were prisons. This- the dingy, dusty floor, the stiff wooden bed, the dim moonlight entering the room from a tiny barred window at the very top of the wall- was how she had imagined prison for years.

It was exactly as she had thought it would be.

She didn't know where she was, and she hated it. Loathed it with all of her being. Her head hurt more than ever. Morrigan wanted Jupiter, wanted Hawthorne, wanted Cadence... wanted Jack. She loved him so much. As hot tears spilled down her cheeks and dropped sideways onto the bed, she knew she would do anything to be with him just then. To kiss him, to touch him, to embrace him like she had never before.

Morrigan lay there sobbing quietly for a time, until the man who had approached her in the alleyway walked into the room, banging the door behind him. He swaggered over to her with the air of somebody who had just won a large sum of money gambling, and Morrigan shuddered at the sight of him. He bent down, and she tried not to throw up at his repulsive breath as he whispered, "Let's have some fun now, shall we?"

He untied her, but as soon as Morrigan lifted her hand up to touch her face, he slapped it back down furiously. "You do _not_ move without permission! Do you understand me?!"

Morrigan gasped, and nodded, which earned her jaw a punch. "Ah-ah-ah," the man said, wagging his finger at her like she was a naughty little child. "No moving."

"Y- yes," squeaked Morrigan eventually, resisting the urge to stroke her burning cheek. The man nodded craftily. "Now, my name is Hannibal, but you must call me Master at all times."

"Got it," Morrigan replied hastily. She would call him a different, private name in her head. Shitbreath, she decided. Then she noticed what he was doing.

Hannibal was touching her, moving his hands up and down her behind, and even touching her crotch occasionally. She visibly stiffened, and he chuckled. "Don't look so surprised, sweetheart. There's more where that came from." He smirked suggestively. Morrigan felt sick. But it was nothing compared to what he did then.

He pulled her dress off her aggressively, and her leggings came off soon after. She squirmed the whole time, and he hit her repeatedly. He touched Morrigan's breasts, pinching them in all the sensitive spots, and eventually he moved down to her groin region. Morrigan's breath fastened its pace. No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening! She poked herself discreetly, hoping that she'd wake up and find that she'd just fallen asleep with the others, and they'd all be laughing at her. And she'd laugh too. And it would all be okay.

It wasn't a dream.

When he got undressed himself, and shoved something disgusting inside of Morrigan's mouth, she cried freely. Screamed herself hoarse, begging for him to stop while he moaned in what seemed like satisfaction. Retched countless times, but nothing ever came out. Hannibal wouldn't let it. Her head pounded relentlessly. She thought about Jupiter, and how kind he was, and how he would never do anything like this. She wanted Jupiter. She wanted Jack. Wanted kindness, wanted warmth, wanted pity, wanted love for something other than her genitals.

Eventually he took his genitalia out of her mouth, and Morrigan felt bile rise in her throat finally. She leaned over the side of the bed and threw up, her meal from the night before coming back up in front of her, as well as some disgusting translucent liquid that Morrigan had no idea what was. Hannibal watched her smugly throughout all this, and clapped his hands slowly once she was done emptying the contents of her stomach.

"Well done," he congratulated her. On what, she wondered. What had Morrigan done that was so brilliant? "You're very fuckable."

Morrigan sighed, and felt her eyes close. She still felt sick, and her head still hurt like anything. But she slipped into a restless sleep plagued with nightmares and hopes that somebody would find her and rescue her.

It was just a hope anyway.

* * *

Jack, Cadence, and Hawthorne were a little worried.

They had been searching for Morrigan in all the places she could possibly be, and yet they found no traces of her anywhere. They had checked in cafés, parks, bars- everything. Eventually Jack groaned, stretched, and said, "She's probably just gone back home. Come on, let's go. You guys are staying over, right?"

"Yep."

"Mmhm."

They hurried down streets until they finally made it to the Hotel Deucalion, laughing and grinning.

They knew not of the pain and suffering Morrigan was enduring at Hannibal's place. They were oblivious to her kidnapping.

They didn't know.

* * *

**Wow, hi guys! I've done it. I've made my wacky dream into a fanfiction. This is my first multichapter fanfiction for Nevermoor- I have the whole story planned out in my head, so I should have the next chapter up soon. Hope whoever reads this enjoys it! And yes, this is a very dark story. Sorry...**

**-Idri**


	2. A Dream

Morrigan awoke on a different wooden bed in a different dreary place, her hair wet with what she assumed was water. She felt cold, and shivered slightly as a small amount of water trickled down her neck. She realised with a small jolt of horror that she was naked, seeing her cuts from... from... she didn't know.

Her cell was different this time: there was a bigger window made out of glass covering nearly all of one wall, and there was a steel door next to it. Out of it, she could see a pretty garden overgrown with vines, flowers, and cacti. Two seats were positioned next to a small pond in the middle of the garden, but they stood unoccupied. Morrigan almost liked this garden. Was it hers, she wondered? Perhaps Hannibal had had mercy and left her in a nice place. Perhaps he had let her go. Perhaps he had sensed that what he was doing was wrong. A flash of movement caught Morrigan's attention, and she moved her gaze into the corner.

There were two men standing there, one of them Hannibal and the other one she had never seen before. They were talking and laughing to each other in the corner, and Morrigan felt a sob of hopelessness bubble up and out of her. She was stuck here. Chances were, she'd never see Jupiter or Jack or anybody she loved ever again. How she wished she hadn't run off. How she wished she had just put up with the bickering and pleading. How she wished she was back at the Deucalion, warm, dry, and unraped. Was that even a word? Probably not.

Hannibal stared over at Morrigan suddenly, and she looked away. _Shit_, she thought. She heard footsteps, and flinched silently at each one as her captor walked over to her. He opened the steel door and slammed it behind him just after the stranger walked in behind him. Morrigan shut her eyes tightly.

"This is the treasure I told you about last night, Garrick," Hannibal's voice said, and Morrigan felt him looming over her.

"Hmm," the low, gravelly tone of who she could only assume was Garrick replied thoughtfully. "Bit of a miserable thing, innit?"

Morrigan chanced a peek at the men, and she opened her eyes just a crack. She hated what she saw but couldn't bring herself to close her eyes again: Hannibal had pulled out a kitchen knife and was twirling it conspiratorially as he protested, "No, no! She's rather good in bed. Put on quite a show for me on Wednesday. I'm sure her screams sound just as sexy as she looks."

Garrick eyed her suspiciously, taking the knife. "Does she moan?"

"Not this one."

Garrick rolled his eyes. "That's what you say every time, Hannibal."

"That's because they never moan!" Hannibal retorted, irritated.

"Do it harder next time, then. I've been waiting twelve years for a moan, and yet I've only ever gotten two out of Sylvie."

"It's only been a week. She'll break soon enough."

The men kept talking about this revolting topic, but Morrigan wouldn't allow herself to listen. She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that she saw green pixelated patches everywhere, distracting herself from the perverted whims of these two paedophiles who had seemingly kidnapped her. _It'll all be okay_, she told herself. _I'll see Jack and Jupiter and Hawthorne and Cadence and Fen and all my Unit. I just have to hold on a little longer. I'm fine. This is fine._

It wasn't fine.

Morrigan heard one of the men stepping toward her, and her breathing sped up. _Fuck_, she thought. She couldn't afford to have a panic attack; not here, not now. She opened her eyes ever so slightly, and Garrick loomed in front of her, brandishing the knife. She gasped silently, and fought the overwhelming urge to scream in terror.

A moment passed. She could vaguely see Garrick inspecting her naked body like a complete pervert, lingering a while at her breasts she wasn't allowed to cover. And then he shouted behind him, "Oi, Hannibal! The little bitch's bleedin'. Disgust'n."

Morrigan felt her heart drop. Of _course_ it had to be now that she got her period. She hadn't even felt it, too focused on not letting the men know she was awake.

Hannibal swore, stepping closer. He examined her briefly, and then huffed. "Now we can't fuck her." Morrigan's breath hitched, and she gulped down a sob. Garrick eyed his... what- brother? Friend?... closely, and then said slyly, "But now we get to see what her screams sound like, hmm?"

A minute later, she couldn't hold the screams in as Hannibal and Garrick kicked, punched, and cut her mercilessly. _It hurt, it hurt, it really hurt. Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop-_

Hannibal aimed a particularly painful punch at the back of her neck, and Morrigan gasped in pain. He chortled. "That's what you get, bitch. That's what you get."

* * *

Jupiter ran a hand through his hair wearily. He had been awake all week trying to find leads on Morrigan's disappearance, and yet he and the Stealth had found nothing. All that they knew was that the sixteen-year-old had been either kidnapped or lost in Courage Square sometime in the past few weeks. Jupiter sighed, scrawling his name with a flourish on the bottom of a page.

Twenty-three days ago, Jack, Cadence, and Hawthorne had come into the Deucalion at around one in the morning, expecting Morrigan to be there. She wasn't, and they had all instantly gone out looking for her. Now she was still nowhere to be found.

The door to Jupiter's study banged open, and he looked up to see a frenzied Jack rush into the room, panicked and tearful. Jupiter immediately stood up and walked over to Jack as he collapsed into his uncle's arms. A few minutes passed with them just holding each other, and then Jack said in a trembling voice, 'She's not coming back, is she?"

Jupiter didn't have to ask to know who his nephew was talking about. He brushed tears out of his own eyes, pulled Jack over to the lounge, and said carefully, "She is. We're finding her, okay?"

"What if you can't?"

"We will. Fen's pulled strings; there are Magnificats all across Nevermoor looking for Morrigan. The Stealth are searching as we speak. Israfel is- well, Israfel is Israfel. He's looking, though. Don't worry, Jack," Jupiter replied, sounding more confident than he felt. His eyes started to close slightly, and he shook his head, trying to clear the sleepy sensation.

Jack scanned him, briefly removing his eyepatch. "You haven't slept in ages, Uncle Jove." Jupiter gave a short laugh. "Indeed I haven't."

"You should sleep."

Jupiter rose, gently pushing Jack towards the door. "So should you, it's eleven. I'll talk to you in the morning, okay?"

Jack nodded, giving him a quick smile before disappearing out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jupiter flopped into his armchair with a groan. How had he allowed this to happen? How had he failed as a guardian this drastically? He should have been out there looking for Morrigan, but instead, here he was signing contracts for search parties. Here he was feeling sorry for himself, and _not looking for Morrigan_.

Jupiter took a sip of the coffee that Martha had dropped off five minutes ago and grimaced at the bitter taste. He didn't usually drink coffee; he just needed the caffeine to stay awake. He could taste an odd, salty component in the beverage, and frowned at it. What was in it, he wondered. Salted caramel? Why did it taste so... so...

Jupiter North's coffee cup slipped from his hands, spilling onto his shirt, and he fell into a deep sleep that would last longer than it was meant to.

* * *

On the same night, two middle-aged men hoisted a teenage girl up onto a cage on top of a cart with a horse attached in front, covering her with a blanket and placing shopping bags full of groceries all around her to disguise the fact that there was even a human there at all. The taller one closed the cage door, and they climbed onto the carriage seats. It was the dead of night, around three in the morning, and the streets were nearly empty but for a few police officers patrolling the main roads nearby. The shorter man cracked a whip, and the horse gave a short whinny and started along the cobbled street, his horseshoes making quiet _taps_ as he pulled the cart along behind him.

The girl in the cage was barely awake, too drugged to think much. She felt the sway of the cart and the rattle of the wheels. She felt pain, dim, distant pain, like the eye of a needle digging into her, but everywhere. She stiffened as the cart went over a bump in the road, and relaxed a moment later, the ground smoothing itself over.

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, and one of the men started speaking to the other. She recognised the voice vaguely. Was it a parent? A friend? A... a captor? Yes, a captor. Harold? Hamish? Some sort of old-fashioned name. The girl couldn't remember and gave up on trying to recall the man's identity.

She let her head drop completely, and drifted into a restless, fitful sleep.

* * *

_"Don't do that."_

_Jack's voice cut across the room sharply, and Morrigan dropped her knife. She scrambled to pick it back up hastily, her face reddening._

_Jack sat down on Morrigan's bed next to her, gently tugging the knife out of her hand and sloppily bandaging her bloodied wrist with his nightshirt. Some blood got onto his hands, but he didn't care. "Where the fuck did you get this, Morrigan?" He held the blade up angrily, and she turned her head away from him, shame-faced. "Sorry."_

_"I don't want an apology. I want to know where you got the damn pocket-knife from!" Jack's hands shook as Morrigan wrenched her arm out of his grip, wincing as the cotton fabric stung the cuts she had made on her arm. "Cadence smuggled it in through Wunsoc security yesterday, if you must know. She said I could borrow it." Morrigan's voice trembled, and Jack drew in a __sharp __breath._

_"Does she know you're doing this to yourself? Does she know you're fucking slashing your wrists? Because I know you've known her ages, Morrigan, but right now she's seeming like quite a shit friend."_

_"No. She doesn't know." Morrigan's words were hushed; barely audible over the laughing of guests downstairs.__"You've got to stop doing this, Morrigan," Jack sighed softly, staring at her black eyes which were swiftly filling up with tears.__"I can't," Morrigan replied automatically, nearly robotically. "I won't."_

_"You will," Jack insisted, grabbing her hands and staring her right in the eyes._

_"Or what? You'll ground me? Jack, you're not my fucking father," Morrigan spat back, pulling her hands back._

_"I'll tell Jupiter."_

_The words hung heavy in the room, and Morrigan was instantly alert. "You wouldn't."_

_"I would."_

_"He wouldn't believe you."_

_"Yes, he would. He'd see the blood."_

_"He'll just think I'm on my period or something."_

_"It's on my hands, Morrigan!"_

_"So?!"_

_Silence._

_"I'm going to let you think about that for a minute," Jack responded finally, and Morrigan frowned. "I don't get it."_

_Jack sighed. "Morrigan, why the actual fuck would I put my hands down your-"_

_"You could."_

_"What?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"Okay." Jack exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Morrigan, please don't do this to yourself. We've all been through depressive stages. I have, most of your friends have- fuck, even Jupiter has!"_

_"He has?" Morrigan was shocked by this discovery and found it hard to believe that Jupiter, who cared for her the most, who always made her laugh and asked her every single day without fail how her day had been, and knew if she was lying or not, had ever felt saddened in his life. Then again, she hadn't known him for an insanely long time period. Maybe six years or so. But still..._

_Jack nodded before she could ponder this any further, and replied, "Oh, yeah. A few years back, just before my parents disowned me, I think."_

_"Wait, what?"_

_"Never mind," Jack amended hastily. "Anyway, yeah. He was in a mental hospital for, like, a month. Anyway. Fuck, I'm saying 'anyway' too much, aren't I? Anyway-"_

_"You said it again," Morrigan pointed out, trying to process the amount of information she had just been given and pretending her wrists weren't hurting._

_"- The point is, I need you to stop this. Stop hurting yourself. I don't know what's happening with you mentally at the moment, but I know that you're not in a good state of mind, and you can get help." Jack's voice shook slightly._

_"I don't need help," Morrigan responded in a flat, uninterested tone._

_"You do."_

_"I don't."_

_"You do!" Jack's exclamation reverberated around the room. "You do. I know you need help, and I know that when you say 'I don't need help', you mean that you think you don't deserve help. And let me tell you this, Morrigan," Jack paused for a moment, swallowed, and then kept going. "You deserve it. You've been through a lot of shit. And if you get help, you're going to be okay. Right?"_

_Morrigan stared at the wall for a few minutes, and then turned to Jack, pulling down her sleeves. "You- you really think so?"_

_Jack nodded firmly. "I do." He stood up and led her towards the bathroom, opening a cabinet and getting out a roll of bandages. Moonlight filtered in through the window-_

* * *

\- and then Morrigan woke up.


	3. A Trap

Over the next few months, Morrigan was raped when she wasn't bleeding, and beaten when she was. She hated it more than anything she ever had before. She only wanted- needed- to get home. She needed to get back to people who loved her. To Jupiter, to Jack, to Hawthorne, to Cadence. Every single day Morrigan wondered how a trivial little argument turned into this- it just didn't make sense. Hannibal and Garrick took it in turns to force sex upon her, and then they would watch her for three more hours. If Morrigan cried, or moved even a little bit, she would get beaten until she was nearly dead- and sometimes, she would just wish they would hurry up and get it over with. She was already being tortured- so why wouldn't they just kill her? Why couldn't she die?

Morrigan wondered if anybody at home was looking for her. If anybody noticed she was gone. If anybody even cared.

Probably not.

* * *

Jupiter strode into Wunsoc campus, shivering as the light rain turned into a thunderstorm. He didn't bother to put up his umbrella, instead hurrying straight to Proudfoot House. He opened the doors and then closed them behind him, beginning to walk toward the staff room. But all of a sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he whirled around in shock. He relaxed when he saw who it was; Hawthorne and Cadence were standing behind him with worried expressions upon their faces. Cadence immediately asked, "Where's Morrigan? Have you found her yet?"

"Not yet," replied Jupiter, trying to remain calm. "I- I probably shouldn't be telling you kids any of this." Hawthorne stared up at him determinedly. "She's our friend, and we want to know what's going on. Do you have any leads yet?"

"Not yet."

Cadence threw her hands up in frustration. "Holy shit, everything's 'not yet' with you, isn't it? Is that all you ever say?" she sighed impatiently, attracting the attention of a few other students who were eating lunch.

"Cadence!" Hawthorne hissed, embarrassed. "Sorry, Jupiter."

"No problem. Look, I'm working with the Stealth and we're working as hard as we can to find Morrigan. Alright? I've also got a few acquaintances searching for her on the side. We'll get her back soon enough. Promise."

Cadence scowled, but nodded, and Hawthorne grinned, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "Thanks, Jupiter. Are you going to see the Elders? Or Murgatroyd? Or Dearborn?"

"All," answered Jupiter curtly. "We've arranged to meet in the staff room. But don't you even think about spying on us; got it? Now, I've got to get going. See you later." He hurried away, leaving Cadence and Hawthorne standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

* * *

Morrigan didn't know where she was anymore.

Her head felt awful and her mouth contained a lingering taste of... something. She lay in the corner of a cobbled alleyway, and though she could see the blue sky above her, there were no people around.

Morrigan immediately stood up. Well, tried to stand up, as she found her legs were like jelly. She leaned against the wall, eyeing the old menu posters on the door of a shop nervously. The store looked like a restaurant; one that she knew Jupiter would never let her be caught dead in. "Shabby and filled with druggies," he would say. Nonetheless, Morrigan could spot a kindly-seeming old woman behind the counter. She gathered her mental bearings, made sure she was wearing clothes (which she was, to her surprise), and stumbled over to the restaurant's single glass door, pushing it open. She was instantly welcomed by a gush of warm air, and the counter attendant rushed over to her. Morrigan heard faint voices saying various things such as "we got her!", "she's so dumb", and "she's injured!". She quickly realised that this wasn't a great place to be. This was dangerous. This was bad. Morrigan felt something sharp in her neck, and she struggled to fight the extreme and sudden fatigue that came over her. Somebody shoved her down onto the ground, shouting something she couldn't hear.

Morrigan closed her eyes, and let herself slip away into darkness.

* * *

_Morrigan sighed and let her head fall onto her desk. Jupiter groaned. "It's not that hard, Mog! Look-"_

_"Jupiter, I don't like maths," she stated flatly, rolling her eyes. "I know, but can't you just do this bit?" her patron protested, and Morrigan scowled. "It's not even in the syllabus! What the hell's the point if I won't even use it in my future life?!"_

_"The point is that it's extra credit on your final score for graduation. It'll look fantastic on your résumé."_

_"Doesn't matter. Who'd want a Wundersmith like me?" Morrigan asked quietly. _Playing the Wundersmith card again_, she thought miserably. _How pathetic_._

_"Morrigan! Don't say that," scolded Jupiter sharply. "I get that you hate this, but please trust me, it'll be great. It'll pay off- I promise."_

_"Your promises mean nothing. How many times have you run off saying you'll be back in a day, then come back a month later with nothing to even show for it? How the hell do you think it made me feel when you missed my fifteenth? What about Jack? He couldn't get his supplies he needed for school, because you weren't th-"_

_Jupiter stood up angrily. "Morrigan, that is entirely unacceptable for you to say. I won't tolerate that kind of behaviour from you or anybody else." He took a deep breath, and then said, "Look, I understand you might feel... resent toward my frequent trips. But I bring back important information for the Stealth, and you'll thank me for it someday. Maybe you'll go missing sometime in the future, and we'll be able to find you because of the information that people like me bring back. I'm sorry I'm not here more often, but I'm afraid it's necessary."_

_"I won't go missing," Morrigan said, irritated. "But... okay. Sorry. Thanks. I don't know what I'm supposed to say here."_

_Jupiter laughed lightly. "Okay, so, question seventy-eight-"_

_"Jupiter!"_

* * *

Morrigan was in a white room.

A purely white room. No sound. No colour. Just white. She wore white clothes, white surgical gloves, and her hair was tied up in a bun she could feel behind her. She glanced down at the ground, hoping to see a shadow, at least.

Nothing.

Morrigan looked around frantically, hoping for some sign that this was just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream-

She was interrupted by, to her surprise, the woman from behind the restaurant counter, who held a white bowl filled with plain rice. Morrigan walked over to her. "Excuse me? Wh- why am I here? Is Jupiter here too?"

The woman smiled, a filthy, devious, nauseating smile. "You fell for our little trick. I honestly can't believe it."

"Wh- what? Who are y-"

"That doesn't matter, you little wench. I can't believe you were stupid enough to actually fall for it. Did you really think they'd just leave you near a safe place?"

Morrigan furrowed her brow. "You tricked me. That's not ethically correct, you know."

The woman gave an evil laugh, setting the bowl of rice down on the ground. "Who cares? Here's your rice. Enjoy your stay!" she called as she walked out the door and locked it behind her.

Morrigan gave a small sob, and just lay down on the ground. She couldn't hear anything other than herself. She absolutely hated this- why couldn't Morrigan just have a normal life? Was that such an absurd thing to ask for?

She cautiously picked up a grain of rice, and placed it in her mouth. It didn't taste weird. It didn't feel weird. It didn't smell weird. Morrigan deemed the rice safe to eat and ate more of it, relishing the plain yet filling meal. She hadn't eaten in more than a week. When she had finished, she stared at the empty bowl in silence. If only she hadn't been so stupid as to fall into Hannibal and Garrick's trap. _Fuck this_, she thought bitterly, and she crawled over to the wall and began to hit her arms against it in anger, releasing all the pent-up frustration she had built the past few months- at first gently, and then harder and harder as she broke down and started sobbing.

She hoped she could somehow get out of here.

Or else it would all be for nothing.

* * *

Jupiter slammed his hand down on the table which he, the Elders, and the Scholar Mistresses were gathered around. "I'm doing everything I can to find her," he said through clenched teeth, "and it's not working. You need to calm down with this nonsense. She hasn't done anything wrong. If she had run away of her own accord, she would have come back by now. It's been seven months! A young girl can_not_ survive that long without food and drink."

"Exactly. She's either dead, or run away for good. She needs to be kicked out of the Wundrous Society!" hissed Murgatroyd angrily. She glared at Dearborn, who nodded hastily, and Jupiter pinched the bridge of his nose unhappily. "Look, Gregoria, you have to see that this is absolutely ridiculous. Morrigan deserves her place in Wunsoc- she worked hard for it."

Elder Quinn nodded nearly imperceptibly and glanced over at the other Elders. They nodded back less subtly, and she sighed. "Captain North, I understand your concerns, and you make a good argument. But your scholar has been absent from Wundrous Society for close to seven months and we simply cannot allow this to continue- it's a waste of space and the desk is not being used. While Miss Crow will not be expelled from Wunsoc, she will be suspended until her reappearance. Is this understood?"

Jupiter stared at her in shock for a moment and then nodded, defeated. "You're right as always, Gregoria."

Silence filled the room for a good fifteen seconds, and then Elder Quinn glanced at the clock on the wall. She clapped her hands. "Well, that should be it for today. Maris, Dulcinea, please return to your assigned classrooms." The two women stood up reluctantly, and exited the room. Jupiter turned around to leave as well, but Elder Quinn placed a hand on his arm. "Jupiter?"

"Yes?" replied Jupiter, hoping she didn't need him to run any errands for her. He didn't want to see her face for a good long while. But she just smiled at him sympathetically.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

It had been half an hour.

Or half a month.

Morrigan didn't know how long it had been since she had woken up in the small room filled with nothing but white. It was awful, dull, confusing, disorienting. She loathed the room with all her being. It was so... silent.

"It's okay, it's okay," Morrigan said to herself, her voice shaky and terrified. "It'll be fine. Just keep talking."

Over the next hour- though it felt like weeks and weeks to Morrigan- all she did was sit there, huddled in the corner, humming quietly. She had heard of these white rooms. Hawthorne called it "white torture", a process where the victim was locked up in a room completely devoid of colour and mentally tortured with isolation to the brink of insanity. The walls were soundproof. The lights were neon so they wouldn't cast shadows. To use the bathroom, the prisoner had to slip a note under the door so the guard could let them out, blindfolded, for a maximum of three minutes.

Apparently, Morrigan's captors hadn't given her any notes.

She was stuck until somebody came to rescue her. It had been months! No, hours, No, weeks.

Morrigan Crow was slowly, but surely, going insane.

* * *

**Hi! Please note that the white room this chapter contains is entirely real. My friend Tahlia (who co-writes this) and I have actually been learning about this form of psychological torture for months now, and we're finding it really interesting. A Wikipedia link for anybody curious to find out more about it can be found on my profile.**

**Yeah, we know that the prisoners are kept in isolation, but the restaurant lady was important to this chapter, or else it wouldn't make sense. So here we go!**

**-Idri**


	4. A Memory

Humming.

Morrigan heard humming. Quiet, yet loud and intrusive humming. A tuneless tune, a voiceless voice. Nearly a whisper. She looked around for anybody else in the room who might be humming- but nobody was there, and she realised with a sudden sense of self-realisation, that she was doing the humming. She tilted her head upward, and addressed the ceiling, "I know you're there."

It didn't answer, but Morrigan could see the faces. Hear the voices. Feel the presence. She stuck her tongue out at the ceiling. "If you're not going to answer me, you could at least say so."

Again, no answer.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Fine." She looked down again, curling in on herself. She didn't know how long she had been in her white room. Maybe hours, maybe years. Sometimes the guards came to the door, put a white mask on her, and helped her to the bathroom. That was only rarely, though. And sometimes they would give her a bowl of plain white rice. Morrigan had learned not to devour it as she had done the first time, but instead to savour it, make it last for at least a few maybe-hours.

Morrigan began humming again. She didn't know what the notes were, only that it was a minor tune. She didn't know how she knew, only that minor, which really meant small, was sad. Because sad people are small and withdrawn. Major, which really meant big, was happy. Because happy people went out of their way to tell people they were happy.

* * *

_Jack laughed, pulling his cello bow away from the strings for the third time that minute. "No- it's like- give it here, Morrigan!" She giggled back, pulling the bow towards her again. "No, you said I could learn!"_

_"Exactly. I'm teaching you. Hand it over!"_

_Morrigan sighed, taking the cello from its position resting on her chest and handing it to her friend reluctantly__. Jack__ grabbed it from the neck and held his other hand out expectantly for the bow. She smiled, rolling her eyes, and held it out. "You're such a control freak."_

_"Am not. Okay, so, here. The bow goes here- between the fingerboard and the bridge. See? The fingerboard won't work because your fingers are moving all up and down and leaving oil, which ruins the horse hair-"_

_"Horse hair?!" Morrigan exclaimed, recoiling. Jack stifled a laugh. "Yeah. Clipped straight from the horse's tail."_

_"Ew."_

_Jack smirked. "It grows back, don't w-"_

_"What if it shits?" Morrigan queried, her face a mix of horror and disgust. Jack burst into laughter at that, slapping his thigh. "It's a valid concern!" she huffed indignantly, looking away. Jack composed himself. "It doesn't shit on the tail. They wash it beforehand, anyway! So, look." He adjusted the cello's position, drawing the bow across the thinnest string to make a lovely mellow vibration. Morrigan looked on in awe. "How do you do that?"_

_Jack handed her the cello. "Try again." She copied his actions, the bow accidentally brushing against the next string. Morrigan almost pulled it up, but stopped herself. It sounded... pretty. She glanced up, grinning, and Jack smiled back. He reached out and placed a finger on the thinnest string as she drew the bow up again, and it sounded even better. She stopped playing. "Hey, that's cool! What notes are those?"_

_Jack furrowed his brow, and then replied, "D and B flat. Nice chord."_

_"How do you know? Is that a thing you can do with your Witness stuff?" Morrigan asked curiously. Jack looked confused for a moment, and then said, "No, I can just tell what the notes are. It's a stupid music thing that not many people can do."_

_"Oh."_

_A minute passed, Morrigan and Jack just staring at the cello. Jack looked up. "Want to talk about-?"_

_"No," Morrigan replied hastily. "No, I don't."_

_"Okay. That's fine. Just... if you want to, I'm here, okay?"_

_"I know."_

_Silence._

_Jack cleared his throat, breaking the heavy quietude. "So, that chord you made. That's a major chord."_

_"What, like a big one?" Morrigan frowned. Jack chuckled. "No, it means... it basically means happy. Uplifting."_

_"What about the sad ones?"_

_Jack gave her a small smile. "Sad or angry chords are minor. If you think about it, the word itself sounds sad. Like, it's trying to make itself less noticeable, because it's sad. Happy people want people to know they're happy, so they spread themselves out."_

_"What, like man-spreading? Bullshit,__" Morrigan snorted. "You're delusional."_

_"Thanks! What a compliment, honestly," Jack replied, grinning. Morrigan punched him in the arm lightly, looking toward the door and then back at him. "Do you think Jupiter will be back soon? He's been gone for days."_

_Jack opened his mouth, presumably to say something reassuring and fake, but then sighed. "I... I don't know, Morrigan. You know he's always away for ages at a time... but he said he'd be back yesterday and he still hasn't sent a note."_

_"Do you think he's okay? He never misses your first day back..."_

_Jack stared at the floor, determined not to meet Morrigan's gaze. "He better be. He's not allowed to just up and leave, he... he'll be fine."_

_Rain began to pour down outside, and neither of them saw the ginger-haired man enter the building and head straight upstairs._

* * *

Morrigan was cold. Cold, cold, cold. She felt the cold ground beneath her body. Everything was cold. She couldn't hear anything; mainly because she wasn't making any noise and neither was anything else, and she couldn't see anything. Mainly because she had her eyes closed. If Morrigan squinted hard enough, she saw yellow, but it hurt her eyes. Colour had been a foreign thing for a long time- she simply wasn't used to it. So here she was, eyes closed, no longer humming.

Morrigan opened her eyes blearily, looking around. The ceiling made faces at her, and so she retaliated by scrunching up her nose at it. The faces contorted into an expression of surprise and vanished, making the raven-haired girl smirk.

Morrigan stood suddenly, dragged herself over to the door, and brought her fists to the white-sprayed metal. She had skin-coloured hands, she noticed, but only because she had torn her surgical gloves off ages ago. The one bit of colour. She vaguely registered a large amount of pain when she hit the door, but ignored it, banging her hands against the metal sheet in order to attract attention.

Nobody answered for a long, long time.

* * *

Jack sat on his bed in silence, clutching a framed photograph of him and Morrigan from barely a year ago. Morrigan was holding his cello, his pride and joy, and Jack's bow was in his own hand as he brought it to the strings. He remembered that day so clearly- how Martha had entered the room with a camera in her hands and grin on her face, proclaiming that Jupiter was back, and that she wanted a photograph of the two of them with the cello. So Martha had taken the photo, and Morrigan and Jack had held the cello and bow respectively. He had tried to play a chord at random, which had ended in the two of them laughing uncontrollably as Jack accidentally played what Morrigan claimed sounded like an elephant on crack.

A few tears fell onto the well-polished glass of the frame, and Jack wiped them away hastily. _She'll be fine_, he reminded himself.

But would she?

Jack whipped his head upward as his door creaked open. His uncle walked into the room with a weary expression on his bearded face, and he sat down next to Jack. "Well, do you have any leads yet?" Jack asked impatiently.

Jupiter sighed, pressing his hands to his temples. "Not yet, Jack. We found a bloodstain in an alleyway near where you guys were that night, which forensics couldn't confirm to be Morrigan's. Along with..." Here Jupiter paused, looking extremely uncomfortable. "... along with her shirt."

"What?!" Jack cried. "No, they- that can't be... she can't be..."

"We still can't confirm anything yet," Jupiter amended hastily. "As I said- the forensics scientists couldn't tell whose it was, it was too old. But I recognised the shirt. It's the one I gave her for her fifteenth b-"

"Are you guys fucking morons?" Jack groaned. "Of course it's hers. If her shirt's right near it, then-"

"It's a dodgy alley, Jack. I've been there. I've seen the area- there's a good chance she was just mugged, and she got her shirt stolen-"

"Why the fuck would they steal her _shirt_?"

"Look, I don't know. I don't know what happened. I don't know if she's okay or not. But if there's any chance she's alive, we _will_ find her, and she _will_ be okay. Got it?"

Jack nodded, feeling numb. Her shirt had been found, her shirt had been found, her shirt had been found. There was a chance that that was Morrigan's blood. She could be dead.

_She could be dead._

"Jack?"

Jack looked up. "What?"

Jupiter smiled, a small, hopeful smile. "Don't give up on her."

* * *

The girl had black hair and piercing black eyes. A crooked nose, cheekbones showing through the thin layer of skin she possessed, fingernails bitten down nearly halfway. She wore all white, laying on the white floor of her white room. Everything was white.

The girl didn't know her name.

The girl's eyes darted around nervously, watching for anything threatening- like a rabbit on the lookout for hawks, peeking out from its burrow. She reached her arm out towards the ceiling, fingers fumbling until she found her middle finger and put it up. She chuckled, an expression of giddiness making its way onto her face as she stood up and began picking at her arm, scratching it, etching marks into it.

Eventually she drew blood.

The girl laughed this time; a sound of true lunacy. She pinched the area around the new wound, making more and more blood drop out.

Red.

The girl dabbed her index finger in the wound, and wrote a word on the wall:

**_FACES._**

She appeared insane to any onlooker who happened to witness this bizarre behaviour.

But nobody did, and nobody would for a long time.

* * *

Classes were boring without Morrigan Crow.

Cadence had decided this a long time ago- six months and twenty-four days, to be exact. The first day hadn't been too bad, she supposed- it was just like any other day when her friend was sick, or just away from Wunsoc for the day. But after two weeks, Morrigan still hadn't returned, and things began to get _really _dull. Sure, Lam was there, as well as Hawthorne and the rest of their Unit. But there was no Morrigan to brighten things up by asking ridiculous questions in class for laughs, or chatter away amicably about her weekend at lunchtime. Nobody to wait at the station with before the schoolday began.

And that sucked hard.

Cadence and Lam sat together outside Proudfoot House, watching the clouds go by as they ate their lunch in silence. Scholars sat at picnic tables all around, either doing homework or eating some variant of sandwich.

Lam looked up. "So... did you talk to Jupiter, or whatever his name was?"

"No," Cadence answered irritably, taking a bite of her sandwich. She swallowed, and then continued, "I talked to Hawthorne, who talked to Jack, who talked to Jupiter, who refused to give an answer, and so Jack talked to Hawthorne, who talked to me, and they found Morrigan's shirt and blood that may or may not be hers in an alleyway near where we were the night she went missing." Lam gasped and brought her hands to her mouth, horrified. "So you mean she's..."

"They don't know, according to Jack and Hawthorne. Hawthorne told me that Jack said very sarcastically that 'just because they found her shirt near some blood, it doesn't necessarily mean that it's her blood, they have no way of knowing'. Then apparently he called them 'bloody assholes'."

Lam frowned, her features contorting. "Do you think she's... you know... alive?"

"Yes," Cadence replied immediately and confidently. "She wouldn't just leave us, Lam. I know Morrigan really well, and she... she wouldn't leave. She just wouldn't."

"Do you like her?"

Cadence choked on her sandwich, and Lam thumped her on the back. Once the dark-skinned girl regained her composure, she glared at Lam flatly. The small girl grinned. "What?"

"What the fuck do you mean, 'do I like her'? Why would you ask that?"

"Because you do."

Cadence opened her mouth to retort something undoubtedly witty yet improvised, but before she could even start, she was cut off. Lam held up a finger. "Hold on! Wait. Oh, dear."

"Huh?" was all Cadence could say, confused. Lam shushed her, and they waited in anticipating silence for at least ten seconds until an older student walking up to them with an angry expression on his face. Lam glanced up anxiously. "I told you."

Cadence shook her head, bewildered, as the student towered above them. "Uh... hi," said Cadence uncertainly. "Can we... help you w-"

"Your dyke girlfriend? Morrigan, or whatever? You know she's expelled, right? Because she's dead?"

"She's not dead, and she's not gay. Even if she was, you wouldn't have the right to call her that. And- wait, she's expelled?"

The student smirked, crossing his arms smugly. "Yeah. They postponed your tests for no reason!"

Lam stared him in the eye. "So?"

"The point is," sighed the student, "aren't you angry?" He didn't wait for them to respond and did it himself: "They gave her privilege just because she's a Wundersmith."

"That's ridiculous," replied Cadence briskly. "They wouldn't give any students privilege just because of their knack."

"Oh, but they would!" the student exclaimed gleefully. "Don't you see?"

"Nope," Cadence muttered, standing up and pulling Lam to her feet as she did so. "Come on, Lam, let's eat somewhere else." Lam nodded, staring fearfully at the older student as they walked- or were dragged- away.

"What the fuck was that about?" Cadence queried as soon as they sat down with the rest of their Unit. "Why did he care so much?"

"Maybe he's a murderer, and he killed Morrigan," Thaddea replied nonchalantly, glancing up from her board game with Hawthorne. Anah gasped. "Thaddea, that's an awful thing to say! We still have to have hope. Even if things aren't looking the best right now, there's still a chance she's okay, or at least alive."

"A shred of hope," said Cadence quietly. "Let's hold onto it tight, then."

And so they did.

* * *

**Thanks to Tahlia, we both now headcanon Jack as perfect pitch.**

**This is our longest chapter yet, and I'd like to really thank Tahlia for all the hard work they've put in. They have so many writing projects that they're meant to be working on, but here we are, lecturing me on politics as we Skype call! Thank you so much for reading, the next chapter should be up sometime next week as we're trying to reach two thousand words for each chapter.**

**Alright, that just about wraps this author's note up- but first, a message from Tahlia:**

**"what if the fucking walls turn blue"**

**Thank you for reading through this nonsense!**

**-Idri**


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